


Just Another Fairytale

by MessyInsomniacBookGirl



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom, Henry Cavill RPF, The Witcher (TV) RPF
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Death, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fairies, Fairy, Fairy Tale Curses, Falling In Love, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Haunted House, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, Jersey UK, Magic, Murder, Myths and Legends of Jersey, Romance, Smut, Suspense, Swearing, character death sort of, fae, fairytale, ghost - sort of, lots of swearing, myths and legends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyInsomniacBookGirl/pseuds/MessyInsomniacBookGirl
Summary: The year is 2020.A pandemic has spread all around the globe.Lock-down has arrived in the UK, and everything just... stops.One week into lock-down, Henry Cavill is looking to find something to occupy him other than him vegging out behind his computer while playing video games all day. He blindly impulse-buys a dilapidated cottage in the middle of nowhere, on the island of Jersey -where he was born and raised-, with the intention of doing it up himself during... well, however long the compulsory pause in the filming of his series and movies will last.His renovation plan does not pan out the way he imagines it, though, because, although he'd laughed at his mum when she'd warned him something had been off about the cottage for as long as she could remember, there really seems to be something seriously wrong with said cottage.And the blasted pile of stones and straw doesn't even have the decency to wait a few days to make its objections to his presence known.Nope, it's full on war from the get-go.
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've recently fallen in to the cursed rabbit hole carrying Henry Cavill's mark, name, whatever, and I can't seem to find my way out anymore. Dammit.
> 
> So, my Muse has had me writing this over the past few days, because she apparently thinks having twelve other stories in progress on AO3 is peanuts and I can handle a few more. Dammit.
> 
> Well, happy reading!
> 
> XO
> 
> Ps. Please do heed the tags, there are a few TRIGGERS in there. This story is rated E for a reason!

**Chapter 1**

Tuesday, 31 March 2020, 4:24PM. Cavill family home, outskirts of Saint Helier, Jersey, UK

‘I bought a house!’ Henry exclaimed enthusiastically as he stepped into his parents’ kitchen; closing the outside door behind him and waving around the papers he’d signed not even forty minutes earlier.

His dog, Kal, a black and white American Akita, woofed happily and stood from the cushion he’d been lounging on to greet him. He scratched the dog behind the ears, and gave him a dog treat from the bowl of treats which had been placed high on the kitchen counter; well out of the way of the inquisitive animal.

‘You what?’ Simon, his older brother, choked out, coughing around a sip of coffee gone down wrong. He put his cup down onto the kitchen table and closed the financial news paper he’d been perusing.

Henry grinned at the seated man, and deposited the ownership papers onto the table with a flourish.

‘I bought a house.’ He repeated, his smile widening. ‘Here, on the island. It’s called Fey Cottage.’

Simon picked up and flipped through the legal documents. He frowned.

‘You… bought a cottage that hasn’t been lived in for at least fifty or sixty years... Which means you invested your money in a dump, basically.’ Looking up at Henry with an incredulous expression, he shook his head. ‘That house has been empty since before we were born, maybe even since before our parents were born, Henry. What were you thinking, buying it on a whim?’

‘Remember how Piers and Nick used to try and scare us by telling us it was double haunted, because someone was murdered there or something, _and_ because it’s built on a fairy mound, and then we dared each other to sneak in after midnight and spend the night there?’ Henry reminisced with a wistful smile. ‘God, we were so young then. How old were we? Thirteen, fourteen? Couldn’t have been much older than that.’

Seeing how Simon threw him a ‘what-the-hell-dude’ look, he quickly came back to the subject at hand.

‘Anyway… I came past the real estate office in town yesterday morning, during my run, and my eye fell on a picture of the cottage in the office window. And I decided to buy it.’

‘And you decided to buy it…’ His brother echoed. ‘Just like that? You didn’t even have it evaluated by a builder or a prospector or anything?’

Shaking his head, Henry shrugged.

‘Well, obviously, I talked to the realtor, and I looked through the pictures in the catalogue. He told me the house is structurally sound. It just needs a complete, modern overhaul… Did you know the heart of the house dates back to the the mid to late sixteenth century? The original foundations may even be older than th-’

‘Good God, Henry!’ Simon exclaimed, sounding flummoxed. ‘What’s gotten into you?! You’re usually a bit more… frugal in your spending. And now you’ve gone and impulse bought a house on the verge of collapse. Has this whole lock-down thing caused something to short-circuit inside your head?!… Did you even visit the site before you bought it?’

‘Uh… no? I haven’t been to that part of the island in years. It’s a bit out of the way, you know. But that’s why it’s so perfect…’ Henry’s voice trailed off and he grimaced at seeing Simon’s frustration with his impulsivity.

Of course he _knew_ his behaviour had been illogical and completely out of character. Of course he knew a person should _not_ buy a house on a whim. Usually he wasn’t that unpredictably impulsive at all, but a picture in the realtor’s catalogue, of an artist’s vision of the thatched cottage completely restored, had spoken to him in a way not many things had in the past few years -except for maybe the The Witcher television series he now was a proud part of-.

He felt the need to put his brother at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to renovate it.’ He said, sending Simon a comforting smile.

‘You’re going to… _renovate_ it.’ Simon deadpanned.

‘Yes.’ Henry smiled wider. ‘I’m going to do it myself. During lock-down. God knows how long this pandemic will last. At least this way I’ll get something out of it.’ At seeing Simon’s flat stare, he added, ‘A house. I’ll have a house by the end of it!’

‘Shit, Henry…’ His brother facepalmed with both hands, and rubbed his face in a way which betrayed his desire to thump his forehead against the table. ‘I know you’re the creative one in our family, but you have no experience whatsoever in DIY-ing _anything,_ outside of building your own gaming computers and painting those fantasy figurines.’

‘So? I’ll learn. YouTube and Google have plenty tutorials. And if I fuck up, then I’ll still walk away with more DIY experience than I had going into this project.’ He mentally dug his heels into the ground, feeling his stubborn streak rising at his brother’s callous dismissal of his new project. Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned at Simon. ‘It’s not like I have anything on my plate for the foreseeable future. Anything film or series related has been frozen, and who knows how long it will be before we’re back to normal. I can’t just lazy around on my arse the entire time. I’d go mental.’

‘How did you even manage to get everything legal and everyone needed for the sale together so fast with this lock-down in full swing? Couldn’t have been easy.’

‘Oh, where there’s a will, there’s a way. And there was one... a will, I mean. Literally. The sellers inherited the cottage from a distant relation, and they were happy to be rid of it. Apparently, they don’t even live on the island, and they had their local solicitor handle the entire thing with the realtor. Me being a cash buyer without the need for a mortgage paved the road even more, and they pushed for a rush sale. So… here I am, the proud new owner of Fey Cottage.’ Henry dangled the small key ring with three house keys from his finger. ‘I was surprised to hear it had been on the market for as long as has. The realtor mentioned it had been in their portfolio for five years. I mean, they sold it to me below asking price, and the land it’s on is already worth more than that. Unbelievable nobody scooped it up before I did.’

‘Not really.’ Simon grumbled, standing up from the table and placing his empty coffee cup into the sink. ‘It’s a dump.’

‘What’s a dump?’ asked Marianne Cavill -their mother- curiously when she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed at seeing Henry’s crossed arms and pissed off glare at his brother, and Simon’s exaggerated eye-roll and annoyed expression. ‘Alright. What happened?’ No-nonsense and straight to the point she was, their mum. Not too surprising after forty-five plus years of wrangling five sons and a husband.

‘Our Henry here, has bought a money pit. On a whim. Without doing any research, whatsoever. He’s gone off the deep end.’ Simon said as he made his way out of the room. ‘You try and talk some sense into him, will you, mum?’ He kissed her on the cheek and disappeared into the hallway with one last pitying look at his younger brother.

Henry’s heart nervously skipped a beat when his gaze fell on the tiny woman who had raised him. She might be small of stature, but she had always been a force to be reckoned with. Fragile exterior, bomb-proof, iron core; as his father always said.

At that moment, she had one eyebrow raised while she stared at him inquisitively; silently demanding an explanation.

‘I, uh... I bought a house.’ he said, trying a tentative smile on her.

‘Hm.’

Okay, no negative reaction there... So far so good.

‘It’s here, on Jersey, near the north-eastern coast. Its gardens border on the Rozel Estate.’

‘Hm. Go on...’

‘It’s a lovely cottage... or, it will be as soon as it’s renovated, and it’s situated in the middle of almost three acres of land.’ Henry could feel his enthusiasm for the cottage grow again when he thought about the beautiful plot of land which surrounded it.

Where the cottage had fallen into disrepair and looked dilapidated, the garden was filled with life; overflowing with herbs and grasses, beautiful wild flowers and blossoming fruit trees and shrubbery. In the photos it had looked wild but still decently kept; not overgrown with nettles and brambles as one would expect from a house going uninhabited for such a long time. Maybe someone from the nearby hamlet with a green thumb and a love for gardening had sporadically been keeping it up over the years.

‘And it’s a money pit because?’

His mother’s questioning voice pulled him back to the present, and he grimaced at her apologetically before he answered her.

‘It has been uninhabited for almost a century, and it has virtually no electricity or plumbing? I mean, I asked and the realtor said mains electricity can be easily installed as there’s a main line nearby. I’ve been thinking about digging a new well for fresh water and installing solar panels for electricity, and maybe a tank for waste water. Fey Cottage lends itself incredibly well for being self-sufficient and off the gri-’

‘Shit!’ Henry startled from his mother’s unexpected exclamation. She never cursed. ‘You bought _Fey Cottage_?!’

‘I... uh... yes?’ He frowned, surprised at how she seemed more upset about which cottage he bought than the state of it.

His mum ground out something that sounded a lot like ‘ _fuck_!’, but that couldn’t be right. His mum _never_ said such words.

‘What’s going on?’ Colin Cavill, Henry’s dad, entered the kitchen. ‘And why are you swearing like a dockworker?’ He asked Marianne. ‘Did someone invade the island or something?’

Henry’s mum sighed and then visibly deflated.

‘He’s bought Fey Cottage.’ she said, gesturing at Henry. Her hand went up and rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache.

Colin’s surprised gaze shot to his son.

‘Oh... Ouch.’ was all he said before he patted Henry’s shoulder and walked right back out of the kitchen. ‘Good luck with that.’ he called back over his shoulder and disappeared into the sitting room.

Henry frowned in confusion. The afternoon became curiouser by the second. Why had everyone reacted so strange to him buying a house and some land? -alright, Simon’s reaction as a financial hotshot banker hadn’t been that weird, but his parents’ reactions had been all the stranger for it- 

If the whole project didn’t work out, he’d just sell it again. Easy peasy. Not like he couldn’t stand to lose a little money on it; the balances on his bank account and his investment portfolio were ridiculous nowadays. He came from a family of bankers and stock brokers, and every cent he’d made through acting had been at least doubled, and maybe even tripled, after his father and brothers had been through with it.

He’d thought doing the cottage up would be a nice pastime during this whole pandemic thing, and he’d thought he would have a nice little house to come home to when visiting the island, at the end of it. He’d be out of the way and self-isolating while working with his hands, and undoubtedly he would be able to train and maintain his fit physique while hauling rocks and bricks, and cement and timber around the building site. The physical labour would nicely replace the gym -which had closed down due to the pandemic, anyway- for the time being.

It would be better than vegging out behind his computer, playing online games all day. Although that certainly had its charm, he knew himself enough to know it would result in him ignoring the necessity to keep his body in fighting shape for The Witcher -a tv series he’d been shooting on and off over the past two years-, until filming would be able to resume.

‘What’s with you guys and this cottage? You’re acting as if me buying it is the worst thing ever.’ he complained, becoming slightly annoyed with how everyone had reacted so negatively.

Marianne sighed and put her hands on her hips as she looked up at him, seemingly having let go of her sudden stress and frustration at hearing about the cottage, and coming over more resigned than anything else.

‘Well, it’s not the _worst_ thing… It’s just... There’s something about that house and the surrounding land... Something’s not right with it.’ She tilted her head as she searched for words. ‘It has been inhabited quite a few times over the centuries for as far as I know, but no-one _ever_ managed to live in it for longer than a few weeks, maybe a couple of months at most...’ Her voice trailed off uncertainly and she eyed him warily.

Henry looked at his mother in incredulous silence for a couple of seconds before he started chuckling.

‘Wait... are you saying you think the place is _haunted?!_ ’ He couldn’t fathom how his always completely down-to-earth, no-nonsense mother who only believed in what she could see and touch had made such a one-eighty degree turn. Laughing, he inclined his head and sent her an amused smile. ‘You’ve never believed in fairytales, mum. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your wits and suddenly take those old wives tales to heart?’

She frowned at his teasing words.

‘Usually, no, I wouldn’t take any of it seriously, but do you have any idea how many people have tried to make it their home over the years? I’ve never known it to be lived in for long when old man Gabourel owned it, and it has been on the market for the past five years, after the couple who inherited it from him had given up to try and turn it into their summer home… And I say try, because they did not succeed in acquiring even one builder on this island who was willing to work on the property. They all know the stories about that place being haunted. When the heirs sent in builders from the mainland and those people were set to work, somehow everything went to the dogs as soon as they started; machines not working or frying as soon as they turned them on, accidents happening with workers, and building work getting destroyed over night, sometimes even disappearing completely, in spite of security measures being taken after the first time it happened.’

Taking a glass out of a kitchen cupboard, she filled it with water from the tap and took a few sips before continuing her story.

‘This whole debacle took place over a timeline of more than ten months, and in the end the heirs just gave up on their idea of owning a summer home on the island and put the plot up for sale. And, as far as I know, there has not been _any_ interest in it from anyone in the past five years; especially not from people native to the island who know the stories surrounding that cottage... At least, until you came along and decided to waste your money on it.’ Shaking her head, Marianne sighed. ‘You’ll never be rid of it, you know. Nobody living on this island will take it off your hands if this thing goes sideways, and by now, many of the mainland realtors probably know about the cottage being hard to sell...’

‘What are you saying, mum?’

‘I’m saying I sincerely hope you’ll be able to turn this thing around. I hope it’ll all turn out alright, and you’ll be able to renovate the house as you envisioned. Because if it all goes tits up, you’ll be stuck with that property for a long time, I’m afraid.’ Marianne sounded worried.

Putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to him as his hand rubbed up and down her upper arm in a comforting way, he was quick to reassure her.

‘It’ll be fine, mum. I’m going to do up the cottage myself in the coming months, and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. I’ll try to sell it on if that happens, and if _that_ doesn’t work out, then that’s fine, too. So, don’t worry about whatever you’re afraid of happening. I’ll be fine either way. Really. My pride might take a slight hit, but I’ll survive, and it won’t hurt me financially. I promise.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry starts his renovation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend, everyone!
> 
> Here's a new chapter for you to enjoy! :D
> 
> XO

**Chapter 2**

Wednesday, 1 April 2020, 12:36PM. Fey Cottage, Saint Martin’s Parish, Jersey, UK.

Groaning, Henry wrestled his large body through the frame of a tiny upstairs window of his cottage. Feet first, so he wouldn’t break his neck if he suddenly slipped and fell. Of course, the weather couldn’t be bothered to become cooler for this undertaking; that would have been too much to ask, apparently. The sun shone bright and warm on his body and did nothing to help with his already dirty and sweaty countenance.

All morning, he’d been cleaning up the mess that had been the inside of the cottage and it had been quite the work-out.

When the builders had left, half a decade ago, they hadn’t really tidied anything up, and miscellaneous building materials and even some tools had been left behind; everything covered in a thick layer of dust and old, dried leaves and dead insects, which had blown and flown into the cottage through one of the many small and -more often than not- broken widow panes.

Before Henry could even think about starting his own building and renovation work he would have to clean it all up.

So, he did.

Or, he tried.

From the moment he’d set foot inside the cottage early in the morning, he’d had the worst ill luck he’d ever experienced in his life.

Things he’d picked up from all around the cottage and then relocated to one end of it just wouldn’t stay in their place. Planks he’d leaned against a wall fell over as soon as he’d turned his back. Bags of cement tore open when he picked them up, making even more of a mess of the cottage than it already was, or refused to stay stacked when he’d finally managed to arrange them neatly; sagging to one side and sliding off the pile he’d tried to create.

He’d hit his head against a beam or two, situated above the sitting and dining room doorways, too many times to count -although that might have been his own fault, as he, with his above average height, wasn’t used to walking around the old cottage with its low beams-, and he had the bumps to prove it.

When _finally_ the ground floor had been as good as it was going to get -he’d sweep and maybe vacuum the place later he’d promised himself, looking down at his dust covered arms and clothes-, he had made his way upstairs by a rickety, creaky ladder which stubbornly pretended to be the missing staircase.

Thankfully, the upstairs had not been as messy as downstairs, but still it had needed to be emptied out. Squaring his shoulders, he’d set to work, throwing stuff that was mostly garbage right down into what had been the stairwell, having it land at the foot of the ladder, intending for it to be thrown out as soon as he was done tidying up the upstairs rooms.

Slightly too late he’d realised he probably shouldn’t have pushed the ratty -but still quite heavy- old chair he’d found in one of the cottage’s three bedrooms, down the stairwell gap with such gusto. The cursed thing had landed at the foot of the ladder with a loud thump, which had been immediately followed by an ear splitting crack and the steep sagging of the wooden floor below.

As if in slow motion, Henry had observed how the top of the ladder disappeared from his sight and he’d heard it fall down onto the mess he’d made on the ground floor with a clang.

Which brought him to his current predicament.

He knew from just looking at it that the stability of the ground floor had been severely compromised, and he was pretty sure that if he tried to jump down, or even only lower himself down, his substantial weight would probably cause the entire floor to cave in.

Also, knowing that houses this age sometimes had big, deep cellars beneath their wooden flooring, he wasn’t really keen on chancing a leap of faith, only to end up staked by a wooden beam in a pit in the ground as everything caved in above him; effectively burying him alive.

_Nope. Not doing that today._

After walking around for a couple of minutes, going through his options -which were few to none, if he was being honest with himself-, he finally decided on escaping the upstairs through the biggest window available, located to the side of the property. The window was situated about three to three-and-a-half metres above the ground, and it looked like the width and height would probably fit his muscled physique if he forcefully wrenched himself through.

Hopefully.

Otherwise he’d be stuck until someone came along to save him. Now, _that_ would be embarrassing. He’d never hear the end of it from his friends and family. Not to mention if the press got a hold of the story… He pulled a face at that thought.

_Shit... better not think too much on it._

He opened the window, and inelegantly sat himself down on all fours, arse pointed towards said window. Then he put his feet on the window sill and walked himself backwards on his hands, pushing his legs through the narrow window until he had to turn himself sideways because his hips wouldn’t fit through otherwise. With a bit of a wiggle he was able to move his posterior through the opening without causing any damage to his manly bits... well, not too much, anyway -it was mainly his pride that was hurt, really-.

He hopped his upper body through the window by pushing off with one hand and clasping onto the window ledge outside with his other hand, effectively controlling his entire body weight with the muscles of one arm.

‘ _Fuck_ , I’m gonna feel this in the morning.’ He grunted through his clenched teeth as he also grabbed the outside ledge with his other hand, and slowly lowered himself down until he hung parallel to the wall.

Looking down, he estimated his final drop would be only about a meter or so, maybe even less than that, and he let go of the window ledge, landing safely on his feet, cushioned by the soft grass below.

Wiping his dirty hands on his sweat pant clad thighs, he stepped around the corner of the cottage and made his way to the front door he’d kept open to air the cottage out a bit, and maybe let the breeze carry away some of the dust.

The moment he stepped up to the door, it slammed closed with a reverberating bang when a sudden, mysteriously strong gust of wind got a hold of it. Thankfully, he knew not to worry too much about that, as the door couldn’t be locked, because the first thing he had done when he arrived in the morning was securing the lock to not click into place if he stepped out and the door accidentally fell closed behind him. He’d tightly wedged a piece of wood into the notch inside the doorjamb; making sure it wouldn’t go anywhere until he pried it back out with a screw driver at the end of the day.

Surprise washed through him when he pushed against the thick, sturdy wood and the door didn’t budge. Not even an inch.

‘What the hell?’ He murmured, pushing again; a little more firmly this time.

Nothing.

Did the force with which the door slammed closed cause the piece of wood to pop out? He deemed it highly unlikely as he’d had made sure the thing wouldn’t budge under even the most strenuous of circumstances. Which made what had just happened all the more flummoxing.

Sighing in annoyance, Henry put his hand in his pocket to fish out the keys to the cottage. Thankfully, he’d had the presence of mind to keep those on his person at all times.

 _Wait…_ His fingers met with cloth and air, but no keys. He felt around in his pocket again.

Nothing. again.

‘What the-’ He fell silent when he felt a hole in the bottom of the pocket.

‘Shit!’ he hissed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

Kicking the door in frustration, he felt in his other pocket for his phone.

Which he realised he’d put on the hearth inside the cottage to keep it safe from accidentally dropping and breaking it while he worked.

‘Aw, _fuck!_ ’

There he was. Dirty and tired -and chafed raw in certain places he wouldn’t mention, thanks to that freaking tiny window-. Owner of a cottage he’d locked himself out of, and which turned out to be in worse shape now than it had been when he’d started out cleaning it up a couple of hours earlier.

Cupping his hands around his face to keep the reflection to a minimum, he peeked into the dim house through the dirty, small window located three feet to his left; almost immediately spotting his phone -and weirdly also his house keys _and_ his car keys- gleaming against the greyish-brown stone on top of the hearth.

Henry fought the urge to bang his head against the lintel above the window in impotent anger.

‘Motherfff-’

‘Hi! Watcha doin’?’ A light, happy voice asked from behind him.

Startled, he turned around and simultaneously let out a low, involuntary cry; not expecting anyone to be witness to his blunder. Not expecting anyone, period. The nearest neighbours were at least a quarter mile away, and he knew for a _fact_ that any members of his family present on the island had been working from home all day.

His gaze fell on a small boy -he couldn’t have been older than seven or eight- sporting a mop of light brown curls above a pair of startlingly blue-green, mischievously twinkling eyes, shining from a fine-boned, almost elfin face. The boy giggled at his shocked shout and startled facial expression, and happily swung his legs from where he had installed himself on a thick branch of what looked to be an apple tree; exuding a completely carefree countenance. His perch put him at a slightly more elevated height than Henry stood at.

Henry, seeing a dangerous wobble in the branch from the boy’s movement, just before a crack appeared at the base of it, acted on pure instinct when he rushed towards the tree, moving faster than he felt he had in a long time and plucking the boy from the branch a split second before it sagged and tore off under the boy’s weight. Henry could only just avoid being hit by the thick limb.

‘Careful there, little man.’ He said gently when he stepped away from the tree, trying to get his worriedly galloping heart under control. He put the boy on his feet, making sure the child was unharmed. ‘This tree is old and fragile, and not suitable for climbing by even the lightest of boys. You could have severely hurt yourself if that branch had broken off with you still on it.’

‘ _Wow_ , you’re strong.’ The boy said, his eyes wide as he looked up at Henry; apparently not even perturbed by his brush with a potential life-threatening injury. ‘Are you a giant?’

In spite of the scare not seconds before, Henry found himself utterly charmed by the child’s spontaneity, and he chuckled at hearing the complete awe in the boy’s voice.

‘No, I’m just Henry, and, sadly, I’m only human… What’s your name?’

The boy stood up straight, squaring his narrow, skinny shoulders underneath what looked to be a very old -it looked like an original vintage one from the eighties-, slightly dirty but well kept grey ‘Labyrinth’ t-shirt, depicting the Goblin King cradling a glass sphere in his fingers, and held out his hand to Henry.

‘I’m Win. Nice to meet you, Henry.’ He said after Henry had taken his hand and shook it; then he pensively narrowed his eyes at the tall, broad man. ‘Are you _sure_ you’re not a giant?’

‘Hello Win. It’s nice to meet you too... And, yes, I’m pretty sure.’ Henry smiled at the adorable child. ‘Is Win short for Edwin?’

Wrinkling his nose in obvious distaste at the thought of being named Edwin, the boy shook his head.

‘No, it’s just Win. Win Dannan.’

‘Alright. Win it is... Where do you live, Win Dannan? Do your parents know you’re out here?’ Henry suspected the boy had escaped the watchful eye of a parent and had gone on a walkabout adventure. Probably bored out of his mind from being forcibly homeschooled due to a pandemic situation a child his age wouldn’t really entirely understand.

Win shook his head.

‘I live with my Nan, that way, on the underside of the hill.’ He waved nonchalantly in not any distinct direction.

‘You mean, at the other side of the hill?’ Henry clarified, amused by the boy’s fanciful description. His own nephews had been the same at that age.

‘Yes.’ Win nodded. ‘That’s what I said.’

‘You do know it’s dangerous to be walking along the roads by yourself, right? The cars drive incredibly fast, and they won’t be able to see you in time and stop, because you’re so small. You could get hit and be seriously hurt.’ Frowning at the unsettling thought of the small boy being gravely injured in an accident, Henry tried to make sure Win understood the gravity of the situation.

Win just shrugged.

‘Oh, I don’t use the roads. I came through the fields. I know all the secret short cuts around here.’ He said with a mischievous, almost roguish grin that looked slightly too mature on his young, freckled face, but when Henry blinked it was already gone; as if it never even had been there in the first place.

 _You really inhaled too much ancient dust today, Cavill. It’s got you seeing things._ He berated himself with an internal chuckle, and he shrugged off the strange observation as being a combination of a trick of the light and his own fatigue. It really was time for a break.

‘Oh, that’s good then, I guess.’ He said in response to Win’s words. ‘Just make sure you don’t walk into a road without looking both ways, and also listen hard for any approaching cars.’

‘Okay.’ Win said thoughtfully, his expression solemn. ‘I will.’

With a satisfied nod, Henry walked to the car he’d parked next to the house in the morning; opening the passenger door -thankfully he hadn’t locked it, otherwise he wouldn’t just be without his phone and his keys, he’d be without any food and water, too- and picked up the medium sized cooler from the seat.

‘I brought some food with me for lunch, and as I’ve been locked out of the house, now is as good a time as any to eat it... Would you also like something, Win?’ He could imagine that the skinny boy might be hungry after wandering around the fields all morning.

A big, blissful smile washed over Win’s face at hearing Henry’s offer.

‘Really?’ He asked, sounding as if he couldn’t believe his luck. ‘You have enough food?’

Henry nodded, smiling at hearing the boy’s delighted tone.

‘I’m sure we’ll manage.’

He set down the cooler next to an ancient, weathered looking stone bench which had been incorporated into the wall of the cottage, probably at the time of its construction, and flipped open the lid. Rummaging around and shifting a couple of plastic bags filled with half-melted ice-cubes, he eventually pulled out two bottles of chilled water, and a plastic container holding the sandwiches he’d made for lunch.

When he turned towards the bench, Win had already taken a seat and swung his short, skinny, jean-clad legs with jittery enthusiasm at the prospect of food.

It was silent for a while after Henry had sat down and they ate the lunch he’d prepared for himself before he’d left his parent’s house in the morning.

‘So, whaph awe yu doin’ ‘ere?’ Win asked around a mouthful of the cheddar, lettuce and tomato sandwich Henry had handed him. He was already halfway through it, attacking the bread with his small teeth as if he hadn’t eaten anything in a long time.

Henry chuckled at the boy’s shameless voraciousness. Growing boys were always hungry.

‘I bougth this cottage, and I’m going to clean it up and renovate it... Do you like the sandwich?’ He asked with a smile.

Win nodded and smiled around another big bite.

‘Is vewwy goowd.’ Then he frowned and swallowed. ‘You gonna rip out its insides and put in everything new and shiny in metal and glass, like those people tried to do a couple of years ago?’

‘How do you know about that?’ Henry raised a surprised eyebrow at the child. Win couldn’t have been more than two or three years old at that time.

‘My Nan told me. She also said the house didn’t like it very much.’ Win shrugged. ‘It all worked out in the end, though.’

‘Your Nan said that?’ What a strange thing to tell a child. Though people around the island _did_ tend to hang more weight onto the superstitions of the past than the people living on the mainland.

‘Hmm hmm.’ Win swallowed away the last of his sandwich. ‘So, are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Going to rip everything out and change the cottage into something _modern_.’ The boy spoke the last word with such vicious contempt that Henry blinked a couple of times in confusion before answering.

He tried to make his answer as clear as possible, so an eight-year-old boy would be able to understand it.

‘Well. I _am_ planning to make it habitable again. Which means I’ll have to take some old things out and put new things in. But no, I don’t want to rip everything out; just replace the things that have gone old and mouldy and the things that have broken with things that look the same, but are newer, stronger, and would make it more easy for a person to live in the cottage. It’s called restoration. You restore a house to the way it looked originally, but you make sure you can live in it with added, a bit more modern amenities, like double glazing, insulation against the cold, a nice country kitchen, and a well equipped bathroom upstairs as well as a downstairs toilet. So it would once again become a house that can be loved by the people living in it, and stay that way for a long time to come.’

‘Oh.’ Win said. His expression had become pensive. ‘Well, that’s alright then, I think.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘Are you going to live in the cottage when it’s re... rest... restored, Henry?’ The boy’s tongue tripped over the last word; clearly he’d never used it before.

‘I’d like to.’ Henry nodded. ‘It’s beautiful here. Lovely and tranquil.’ He deeply breathed in the sweet spring air, feeling relaxed and happy, in spite of the annoyance he’d experienced at the end of the morning. ‘I like the way the cottage is a part of the land and its history, and I love the surrounding gardens. They’re incredible.’ They really were. Amongst all the flowers and herbs, he’d spotted many blossoming fruit trees that morning, and even some grape vines. If all went well, there would be quite the harvest by the time autumn came along.

They sat in companionable silence for a while until, suddenly, the boy’s head perked up and his gaze traveled to the far end of the garden.

‘I’m being called.’

Henry frowned. He hadn’t heard anything.

‘Really?’

Win nodded and hopped down from his perch on the bench.

‘I have to go now.’

‘Alright.’ Henry said, also standing.

‘Thank you for the sandwich.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Can I visit you again?’

‘Sure. I won’t _always_ be here, though. But you’re welcome to play in the garden... As long as you don’t climb into any of those trees again.’ Henry added for good measure, trying to look as serious as possible. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if the boy was injured on his watch.

‘I won’t.’ Win yelled back at him over his shoulder as he ran into the tall grass. ‘I’ll bring you a couple of plums from my garden next time.’ He disappeared behind a couple bushes.

‘Right.’ Henry said and shook his head in amusement. ‘It’s not the right time of year for plums!’ He called after the boy, but the only answer he got was the sound of boyish giggles which then quickly faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooohooooo! And that was chapter 2.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> If you have the time and energy, leave me a comment or a kudos. I love hearing from you all.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> XO

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please, if you liked this first chapter, let me know through a Comment, and/or leave me a Kudos. The Muse thrives on those tasty nomnoms.
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies!
> 
> XO


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